


you had me at aloe

by Duckyboos



Series: Profound Meetings [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Retail, Castiel Loves Plants (Supernatural), Gardener Castiel (Supernatural), Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Plants, Retail Worker Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckyboos/pseuds/Duckyboos
Summary: “I, err-- I need help with my monster -- monster-ah? It’s too big.”Blue eyes’ plush mouth twitches against a smile, “Too big?”Admittedly, it sounds like the opening line of a penthouse forum letter.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Profound Meetings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820488
Comments: 43
Kudos: 313





	you had me at aloe

**Author's Note:**

> So, this week I challenged myself to write a genuinely sweet meet-cute, one with little to no swearing or violence (both duckyboos staples - you can imagine how difficult this one has been), so that I could have my first ever G-rating! Yayyy.
> 
> This is the most 'traditional' meet-cute I have lined up for this series, so enjoy the adorableness(?) while it lasts, I guess??
> 
> Next week's is a little canon ficlet.
> 
> Also! If you have any ideas you'd like me to try my hand at, scoot over to [ my tumblr ](http://not-a-natural-born-idjit.tumblr.com/) and send me a message. Or just come talk to me, I'm doing my best to be sociable!

As the big brother of a hot-shot corporate lawyer, Dean spends a lot of his life house and  _ house-plant  _ sitting for Sammy. This is the longest he’s ever been away for though (four weeks and counting) and Dean’s struggling with the upkeep of some of the more unruly chlorophyll-reliant members of the Sam Winchester household.

His brother is out of the country and Dean’s not sure who else to ask, so he trudges down to the local garden center - a place called Eden - and slopes up to the pretty blond behind the front desk, “Err, hi. I need a bit of advice about a house plant?”

Sam is gonna murder him if the stupid thing dies. Or worse; give him the puppy-dog eyes. 

“Sure,” She says, overly-chipper, “Let me just call for our resident expert.”

Dean thanks her and wanders over to wait by a nearby display of smaller, better-contained versions of his brother’s ginormous plant.

He plucks one of the labels out of the soil, reads the name printed above a picture, “Monster-a?”

Ah, so that’s why his nerd of a brother calls it  _ Gojira _ . Figures. 

He flips the little tag over. There are basic instructions for watering, sunlight, ambient temperature, etc. Nothing that indicates what you should do if it starts getting ideas above its station and growing out of control.

There’s the sound of careful, precise footsteps approaching from behind him, so Dean tucks the label back into the soil and turns to face his soon-to-be-savior.

Who may just about be  _ the _ hottest man Dean’s ever seen. Even in the unflattering shirt-and-slacks combo.

Theoretically, Dean knows how to play it cool. He’s read books, seen films. Practically though, it’s always been a concept that passes him by. So when the hot, blue-eyed stranger says in a gravel-deep voice, “I understand you need help with a houseplant?” (which, as far as opening gambits go, ain’t exactly one worthy of telling the grandkids) Dean manages a mangled approximation of ‘uhhh’, which sounds more like one of those weird moo noisemakers that every kid had back in the nineties. 

Yeah. That bad.

The man’s expression is one of polite patience, a customer servant until the end (of his shift), and Dean attempts to scrape himself together enough to survive this interaction. He coughs into his fist, tries again, “Err, yes.”

Excellent work. Now all he has to do is get the rest of the words out. The man tilts his head ever-so-slightly, which combined with the wild mess of dark hair is kind of adorable.

“I, err-- I need help with my monster -- monster-ah? It’s too big.”

Blue eyes’ plush mouth twitches against a smile, “Too big?”

Admittedly, it sounds like the opening line of a penthouse forum letter.

“Yeah,” Dean confirms, “I’ve been watering it once a week, letting the soil dry out in between, but it just won’t stop growing.”

“Hmm,” Blue eyes considers, as Dean barrels on, and now that he’s talking he can’t seem to stop.

“And there’s these weird, brown, stick-like growths coming off of it? Which is kinda creepy, honestly. They’re like witches' fingers or some shit.”

“Aerial roots.” His new friend supplies, amusement evident, “It sounds like you need to prune it.”

“Prune it?” Dean repeats, because that seems far too obvious. Surely he’s not that dumb? “Like with a pair of shears, or…?”

“That’s exactly right, yes.” Blue eyes says, “Do you have some or would you like me to show you our selection?”

So apparently he  _ is  _ that dumb.

“Err, no it’s okay,” Dean asserts, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. The solution seems obvious  _ now. _ “I’m sure I can track a pair down.”

“Alright,” Blue eyes says, watching Dean with the kind of intensity that Dean himself would usually reserve for a really good burger or porno. “Try not to repot it too often either. That’ll help slow the growth. Monsteras will always grow to fill the space.”

Sounds like Sammy. Don’t they say that plants take after their owners? Or is that dogs?

“Okay, thanks.” Dean scrounges up a genuine smile for this beautiful man whose name he still doesn’t know. 

Might never know if he doesn’t ask.

“Any time.” It sounds earnest enough, but then he’s turning away from Dean, most likely moving onto the next customer, and Dean swallows down his disappointment.

He jams his hands in his pockets, makes for the exit. He’s almost there when he hears someone calling out after him, so he turns around. It’s Blue eyes, not-quite jogging toward him, but it’s definitely a faster and less precise pace than his walk away before.

“Here,” Blue eyes says when he reaches Dean, “My card.” Dean glances down to the business card pinched between Blue eyes’ thumb and forefinger. 

There’s a cute little cactus above some lettering that spells out the dude’s name -  _ Castiel Novak _ \- his job title -  _ Owner  _ \- and then there’s Eden’s opening hours and business number. 

“In case you need any further advice,” Castiel explains. 

Dean takes the card with a small smile, “Thanks, man. The next time I need to ask a dumb plant-related question, you’ll be my first port of call.”

Castiel ducks his head, but not before Dean catches the smile curving his lips. He looks back up after a moment, not hiding his amusement all that well, “I hope so.”

Despite Dean’s insane urge to give Castiel a little wave as they part ways, he manages to leave with that little indignity unexplored. Outside, he taps the card against his open palm, trying to decide whether he should just nut up and go ask the guy out. Worst thing he’s gonna do is say no and Dean’ll get over it in fifty years or so.

He glances down and that’s when he catches sight of the ink on the other side of the card. He flips it over, gapes at the words inked in a tidy scrawl.

_ I would love to see your monster(a) sometime ;) _

_ 1-866-907-3235 _

_ Cas. _


End file.
